In the Blood
by Miss Smaug
Summary: Haruno Sakura is not a recognized Konoha ninja. She has never entered the academy, never worn a hitai-ate, never been a part of a 3-man squad. But that doesn't mean she's not a shinobi just the same.
1. Prologue - Diluted Dreams

Prologue - Diluted Dreams

* * *

"I've made my decision and that's final."

Kizashi is not an unreasonable man.

He has always prided himself on thinking logically through every decision, valuing numbers and facts over emotionally charged responses. While not a genius, he's been hailed as a leader in his industry for many years for his sharp analytics skills. He is no Nara, but then, Nara know little of trade and market strategy (though he hushes the voice in his head that points out they could probably learn it in a day).

Sakura is not an unreasonable child.

When her mother had passed a year prior, he was sure she would have lashed out immediately. After all, what four-year-old could possibly understand or accept the finality and eventuality of death? All they had been able to bring home had been her hitai-ate, and he hated that they had nothing but an empty box to bury. He had hardly been able to bring himself to face Sakura when she had asked to see her mother one last time. His heart is still torn from having to explain to her why there is no body.

But she had not lost her temper. True, even now she is not sure of the irrevocability of death and all it brings, but the pintsize pink-haired child had only nodded and grasped tighter to his calf, unwilling to let go of the little stability she had remaining in the world. Her little face had been so unsure, the confusion clearly writ across her scrunched features. In the weeks following, if her words had become more sparse and her chubby fingers more routinely wrapped around his hakama, he could hardly fault her for it.

Mizuki had not been an unreasonable woman.

Even more a mark in her level-headed column, she'd been a kunoichi. She had enjoyed her time as a Chunin, spending her last five years in the hospital specializing in medicinal assistance and nursing. Although she did not hail from any Clan, she had brought great honor to their family in her continued growth. Leading up to those last days, it seemed like everywhere they went, a former patient of hers would stop them and thank her for saving their life. She would try to brush it off and humbly pass on the praise to her colleagues at the hospital. But he could tell she was silently glowing.

For a time, it had felt like perfect happiness.

But he still hears the words she spoke, almost prophetic in their nonchalance.

"_Sandaime-sama has asked me to accompany the Jōnin on this mission. It's just a simple escort, anata. I'll be back in a week. Nothing exciting ever happens in the Land of Water. It's basically a vacation. You'll see."_

She was right of course. _Exciting_ isn't exactly the word he would use to describe the feeling in his chest when the ANBU had shown up at his door 4 days later requesting his immediate presence in the Hokage tower.

He had taken one look at the silent fox mask before him, knowing the heavy implication of sending one so important to his door, and had quietly gathered his child and his composure and followed the heir-apparent to his master.

He likes to think he handled that late-night meeting with as much grace and composure as one in his position possibly could. He had not blamed the man for his ill-gotten information. Had not allowed his tongue to slice the suddenly aged face peering at him from behind wrinkled, clasped hands.

Had not shouted at the injustice that the Hokage could be so foolish as to send a Chunin into an S-ranked battle.

He had not even flinched when the man had quietly admitted, tone heavily laden with shame, that he had no leads on the people who had murdered his wife and that _no, we were not able to recover her body. _

Kizashi is still disgustingly proud of his ability to maintain a full Dogeza while hearing about the death of his beloved wife without so much as lifting his head from its prostrate position on the ground before his leader.

Because Kizashi is a lot of things. But he is not unreasonable.

So, when the Sandaime's lips form the words, he is not immediately surprised that the answer is no.

"Hokage-sama, with all due respect, Sakura is not like most four-year-olds. You know what Mizuki was like. Her control was unrivaled, even in the hospital. While my late wife was not necessarily known for her prowess on the battlefield, she was surely an asset to this village."

He does not miss the flinch on the old man's face at the mention of her name. The man does not generally walk with the names of his past mistakes clinging to him. He knows his leader would rather forget. The man loves to spout about the future and all its hopes as if the unknown of the impending could somehow erase the darkness left in his wake.

"Kizashi-san…while that may be true, I still cannot understand why you would want to push Sakura-chan into the academy at such a young age. She has only two years left before she can join with her peers. Let her enjoy her childhood a bit longer, hmm? These are times of peace. There's no need to rush."

It takes everything in him to steady his tongue. He is aware they are not alone in the room, the Hokage's ever-watchful fox likely hidden somewhere by his master's side.

"Hokage-sama, please. She is ready."

The man levels him with a look, infuriating in its superiority. "I've made my decision. And that's final. Sakura-chan will wait to take the academy entrance exams until she is of age. Now, I will hear no more of this. I am sorry we could not agree, but I must ask that you take your leave, Kizashi-san. I am unfortunately expected in a meeting very soon."

Kizashi is not an unreasonable man.

But as he grasps his child's hand, tempering the rage of being dismissed thoroughly without a second glance by the man whose incompetence had led to the death of the one he loved the most, he thinks, perhaps, that it might be time to let go of reason.

When they are home, he clasps Sakura's hands in his. Her large green eyes stare up at him, unrepentant trust shining in them.

He wonders, not for the last time, if he has made the right decision.

"Sakura-chan. Otou-san has to tell you a secret. Just between you and me, okay?"

When she nods at him, eyes large and curious in her face, he almost feels shame.

Almost.

* * *

End 01.


	2. Waterfall Effect

In the Blood

—

02\. Waterfall Effect

—

"Again."

Sakura grits her teeth and quickly squashes the tirade of profanities that threaten to slip past her lips. She's asked for this, after all.

_"I can handle it, Tsunade-sama. Don't hold back."_

She really wants to throttle her overly confident self from this morning. What the fuck had she been thinking, egging on her master like that? The Legendary Sucker was a _gambling _nickname, not a ninja one.

Sakura catches the faint outline of a smirk on the blonde woman's face, but she has zero time to grumble about the smugness writ across her features.

She is, after all, balancing on the edge of a waterfall, all her weight concentrated into the top of her right pointer finger. One stray thought and she'll fall into the freezing water below her... oh and fall to her death. That too.

"Your focus is slipping, _hime-sama_," Tsunade placidly remarks from across the shoreline.

Sakura almost snarls, the horrifying nickname she's been bestowed lingering in the air. She knows she's come a long way from the prissy, entitled princess that had earned her the moniker when she first came to her master. She knows she has shed that part of her like an old skin, and while she _also_ knows its only appearance here today had been to encourage her concentration, she can't help the rage that floods her at hearing it.

Five more minutes pass. Then ten.

Arms shaking, Sakura starts to feel like maybe she really is going to fall off the cliff side when the blonde finally glances up from her_—is she playing cards_?!—current distraction and grunts in her direction. Sakura flings herself at the shoreline within seconds and breathes in the greedy feel of the dirt beneath her back and the warm sun on her face. She vehemently ignores the scent of her own sweat pouring off her.

"Shisho..." she frowns, eyes slammed shut in exhaustion, "That's...that wasn't a _challenge_. "

Tsunade cackles into her hand and Sakura cracks an eye open at the sound (_oh my god, she **is** playing cards!)._ "Sure it wasn't, you brat. You told me not to hold back. So, I didn't."

Sakura groans, her body straining from exhaustion as she flops onto her side. The rushing water is starting to lull her senses, a drastic change from the ominous song it had been minutes before, and if she doesn't get up, she'll fall asleep right there. Kami help her if Tsunade ever caught her napping during their training sessions.

Her legs almost topple beneath her, they've been training for hours, but she stands and bows to her sensei, exhausted but steeling herself for the next task.

Tsunade doesn't bother hiding the smirk this time.

"Again."

—

Sakura's fingers close around the man's throat, her eyes burning in rage. "Say that again."

The white-eyed sprite behind her squeaks as the man's eyes bulge out in rapidly increasing fear. His fingers claw at her grip, but she knows he doesn't have the strength to pull her hand away. There are few who do.

"I said," she growls, "say that again."

This time the girl behind her clasps her shoulder and stutters into her ear. "I-it's okay H-Haruno-san. L-let's just forget it, okay?"

Sakura presses her lips into a thin line, but she releases the worm from her hook. He drops to the ground coughing, and quickly scrambles away, half crawling, half running across the road. Sakura turns her attention to the kunoichi beside her and frowns fully. "Are you sure you're alright Hyuuga-san?"

Hyuuga Hinata nods in the affirmative, but Sakura is really only half paying attention as she observes the other woman. She's supposed to be a ninja, but Hinata is trembling and flustered, and Sakura almost can't help the bile that rises to her throat.

A _Konohagakure shinobi_, indeed.

She tries to shake away the bitterness, knows she is laying blame on one who is blameless, but she can't help the lingering disgust. It's just as her father had told her before. _Ineffective. Lacking_. She doesn't doubt the woman is capable of great things, her moon-milk eyes a dead giveaway for the raw power she has, but while the potential is there, the execution clearly is not.

Sakura almost sighs when she thinks of the situation. A kunoichi should've been able to fend off some lowlife civilian's drunken advances without letting it devolve into name calling and slurs like it had. But when Sakura had been passing by on her way to her apartment, the other girl had looked near ready to pass out. She'd meant to keep walking, Hyuuga Hinata was a Konoha kunoichi after all, and therefore fell far down on both Sakura's list of people who needed her help and those who deserved it. But then the little cretin had gotten louder.

She hates the word prude. It was certainly not the worst thing that had slipped out of his mouth in his tirade, most of the other words being the exact _opposite_ kind of descriptor, but something about that word has always made her teeth grind.

She'd been slowly squeezing the life out of his scrawny little neck, half aware that she may have moved a little _too_ fast for one of her status, before she'd even realized she'd reacted.

"H-Haruno Sakura-san...right?" Hinata queries, and Sakura is dragged forcefully out of her thoughts. The black-haired beauty is blinking at her, concern and something else swimming in her eyes.

Sakura coughs into her hand, "Ah, yes. And you're Hyuuga Hinata-san, correct?"

The smile she receives is timid but almost blinding in its sincerity. She almost feels guilty for her earlier thoughts. Almost. "Ah yes that's right! Arigato gozaimasu. F-for your help, I mean," Hinata finishes lamely, seemingly realizing the explanation is an unnecessary addendum.

Sakura smiles at her anyway, and waves off the gratitude. "No need to thank me, Hyuuga-san. Us girls have to stick together, ne?" And then she is moving, waving at the half stunned kunoichi as she continues on her path down the road. The latter looks like she wants to say more but Sakura has had enough pleasantries for one day and is determined to exit the conversation before her ire starts to drip through.

Besides, she thinks as she sees two men coming barreling out of the bar behind Hinata, there's only trouble if she stays. The blonde man is bouncing around the brunette heiress, babbling loud apologies for losing sight of her and was she okay and "What happened, Hinata-Chan?! We heard yelling!"

The other man, spiky long hair fluffing around him as if he is a dog raising his hackles, growls angrily, "Get off her, Dobe! She's MY teammate, which means she's MY responsibility. Hinata are you okay?! What happened? Someone said there was some creep out here yelling at you?!"

Sakura doesn't wait to hear the answer. She doesn't care if the woman lies and claims she'd handled the problem on her own or if she regales her fellow shinobi with the tale of being saved from a drunken scoundrel by a pink haired woman who moved quicker than any civilian had a right to. She strongly doubts the prideful Hyuuga clan heiress would ever admit to the truth, though she vaguely recalls hearing of the woman's virtuous spirit through the trade grapevine. She puts little faith in gossip from traders' wives with little else to entertain themselves with.

She just wants to get home and crawl into bed. Waterfall training with Tsunade was never her favorite task, and her bones ache from the strain of trying to keep herself from _not dying _all day long. Chakra might be the force, but her body's physical endurance has to be strong enough to maintain its carefully constant flow.

The bar is only blocks from the quiet little apartment she'd settled into a few years ago, and soon enough it comes into view. She can't help the tired grin that ghosts across her lips, and she quickly finds herself settling on her couch, a cup of tea in hand.

It's almost an hour later and Sakura is thoroughly engrossed in the trade report before her when she feels the slight touch of chakra flutter across the edge of her awareness. She doesn't tense, choosing instead to flip to the next page and pretend to be fully invested in the whiny request one of her merchants has woven into what is supposed to be a detailed description of his recently acquired silk stores.

Whoever it is, they're trying to suppress their chakra into nothingness, but Sakura can feel the slightest bits leaking out. She is, after all, a master of chakra control. A title that could only be possible if she was more attuned to the mere existence of chakra itself than most. If she'd been any other person, she's sure it would have completely escaped her notice, but she isn't any other person. She is a Haruno.

_A mother's gift_, her father has always called it.

It's a few minutes more before she feels the chakra signal ebb away and she breathes out a breath she had sucked in to steady her own reactive chakra.

Apparently Hyuuga Hinata _is _an honest person, she thinks, her mind fixating on the only reasonable conclusion as to why she would suddenly have popped up on the radar of what is easily a jōnin.

Sakura smiles a bit to herself, sips her tea, and returns to reading her report.

—

End 02.


End file.
